How Not to Write a Love Letter
by Feral Phoenix
Summary: Yzak's ten kinds of hopeless, Rau's fifty kinds of oblivious, and really, nothing would ever happen around here without Dearka's help. — Yzak, Dearka, Rau. Drabble.


How Not to Write a Love Letter

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Gundam SEED. This story is mine.

_(live by disillusion glow _– I'm here if you ever need me)

"It's not going to write itself, you know," Dearka mentioned idly from the other side of the room. Yzak glared up at him, face burning; his friend and roommate was sitting in front of his personal computer, clicking idly away with a faint ironic smile on his face. Probably looking up something or other scandalous. Or using it as an excuse for his sneer.

"Shut up and mind your own business, will you?" Yzak grumbled at last, turning back to the blank sheet of lined paper in front of him.

"I've been trying. It's just that you're writing so loudly and furiously I'm having trouble concentrating."

…Damn it, Dearka was sneering. He was definitely sneering now. Yzak whipped back up to glower once again, but still no sneer. Dearka was now covering it by scratching his head and shrugging, his expression twisted into a grimace.

"… if you want privacy, hide in a bathroom stall."

Yzak scowled fiercer yet, and grumbled something to the effect of location and ambience, and certain places being beneath his dignity. Dearka shrugged again.

Silence. Yzak chewed on his pencil's eraser.

"If you're really gonna do this, then you have to make it, like, _really_ blunt. Don't flower it up or use figurative speech or anything. Damn, Yzak, _everyone on the ship_ has figured it out but him. Even Athrun finally knows what's up."

"…Shut up."

Yzak tapped his pencil on the sheets of his bunk, making a face. He'd been staring at this blank page for hours and he still didn't quite know how to phrase—

"Don't take it too personally. I mean, I was talking to the captain and he says the guy's always been like that, just doesn't seem to get anything related to romance one bit—"

_"Dearka."_

"If you say it straight out, I'm sure—"

"SHUT IT!" Yzak snapped at last, gripping his pencil so hard he could feel the wood protesting under his fingers, about to crack. Dearka sighed theatrically and went back to his computer.

Fuming, Yzak turned back to the empty paper, took a deep breath, and scribbled the key three words down before he could stop himself. Then he slammed it down and looked away for a few seconds, glancing back at the paper to make sure he hadn't made any mistakes.

And there it was, proclaimed in the middle of the page in cramped handwriting, bottoms of the letters hanging just a bit lower than the blue rule: _I like you._

"…"

Yzak felt his cheeks heat up, his face burning, probably bright scarlet. Couldn't he think of _any_ better way to put it? This was really—it was just so _stupid, _and—

Scowling ferociously, he crumpled the paper into a wadded ball in his left hand as he pushed himself up with his right, threw it in the general direction of the floor, and was stalking towards the door before he heard it hit.

"Yzak, where're you—"

_"__**The bathroom.**__"_

The soft shift of the automatic door was far too mild for the temper contained in those two words, but it was all that followed Yzak's departure—if there'd been something to slam, he probably would have, but the only echo left in the room was the silence. Dearka couldn't even hear his footsteps; soundproof doors were the standard nowadays.

Dearka stayed seated at his computer for a while longer, tapping the keys idly, but eventually he stood up with a sigh, then stooped to collect the crumpled 'letter'.

"Not like I'm really cut out for playing Cupid or anything, but this'll go on forever if nobody does anything. Well, here goes."

- - -

When Rau le Creuset returned to his office, there was a crumpled ball of paper perched atop it, on the space cleared of paperwork in front of his personal computer.

"…?"

Well, the paperwork wasn't going to take so long that he couldn't defer to curiosity and see what it was. Maneuvering over to stand in front of the chair, picked it up, and began to carefully unfold it as though the paper were foil covering chocolate. (Which was difficult whilst wearing gloves, but he did it anyway, not even thinking to take them off.)

The paper itself, it turned out, was plain college-ruled loose-leaf that anyone could have had, so crumpled that it was difficult to see if anything was written on it. Rau placed it on his desk for a moment to try to smooth it out, then held it back up. This time he spotted the only writing there was immediately.

_I like you._

"………"

Confused, he tilted his head slightly.

"…Is this supposed to be some sort of joke…?"


End file.
